She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways
by YourPersonalWiseGirl
Summary: Based on William Wordsworth's poem "She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways". Rated T because of implied self-harm. one-shot


She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways

Annabeth Chase. One way that I know how to describe her is that she was not afraid to do what she wanted, even if no one else would follow her that way.

She was a bit different and kind of a loner, but it seemed as if she didn't mind that. Whilst other girls did cheerleading and played volleyball or soccer, she would read and draw architectural designs under this large oak tree out in the front of the school. I would see her occasionally playing with a football alone in the park, beside a gently flowing stream. There would usually be textbooks scattered across a blanket nearby her. She was nothing like any other girl that I have come to know of in my life.

Annabeth was studious and kept to herself at school. While I heard that she had the highest average of our graduating class, it never seemed to be an achievement worthy of recognition to anyone else. Teachers rarely spoke to her, and she did the same, not speaking unless spoken to. I doubt she had ever heard the words 'good job' before.

She had never had a boyfriend, as far as I know. Annabeth didn't seem to have friends, either. And I can say that I have never once heard any news about family regarding her, as well. There seemed to be a gloom about her due to a lack of human interaction. However, that had no effect on how she presented herself, spoke, and acted.

Annabeth was an unconventional beauty. She didn't completely smother her face in make-up and wear clothes that would be too tight so as to get people to notice her. No, she had a soft-spoken beauty; one that you would only pick up when you were alone with her. In a crowd, she would blend in and I would lose sight of her, but by herself, she shines brightly. Her honey-blond curls would flow down to mid-back, when not tied up. In a ponytail, a few wispy curls would break free to frame either side of her heart-shaped face. She would brush them back behind her ear only to have had them fall in front of her steely grey eyes time and time again. Long, thick, blonde lashes caught sunlight and caused those eyes to appear as if they changed color.

Her intelligence only added to her beauty, in my opinion. Like a glimpse of sunlight in a dark forest, she was able to demonstrate, unknowingly, to me that not all high school students are dumb teenagers who think they know everything when they really know half of what they should. I'd see her walking in the hallways at school, nearly struggling to keep hold of her multitude of large textbooks. I admired her for that, her intelligence, but also her pride for not asking for help even if she needed it. She worked things out for herself; she silently told everyone that you need only yourself to survive, even if they weren't listening.

She remained in the shadows of high school. Never once did I hear a conversation in a classroom or the cafeteria about Annabeth Chase. She sat in the front of every class she had, but no one paid her any attention. She had passed through most of high school unnoticed, undetected, unknown. She didn't seem to mind. Nothing about her said that she was bothered by it, almost as if she was used to being in the silence.

When Annabeth stopped showing up for school, it was only I and a few of my own friends that knew of Annabeth from when she was little who recognized her absence. Only we would speak to each other about it in hushed tones, as if it were a secret. She had never missed a day before, and being gone for a week was outrageously out of character. I waited for a while, hoping she would show soon. I longed to see her golden hair, her stormy eyes. I missed the way she shifted the weight of her books from side to side, as if never truly comfortable. I craved to see her.

I did see her, just days later. Just not in the way that I had anticipated. I saw her lying down, hands overlapping across her heart, eyes closed. Those eyes will never open again. I saw the slashing marks across her arms as she laid there, silent, unmoving, in between the satin sheets of the mahogany coffin. I saw her casket lowered down into the earth, never to see the light of day again.

My friends will tell you that I have not been the same since that fateful day. It is true. For while most did not see who Annabeth Chase was, I knew her. Even though I had never spoken a word to her, I knew her. Many at school "mourn" her death to get out of school work for the week, but none of them will know the difference that it makes to me. I remember her, the untraditional beauty she was, as I sit here writing this. By the stream that I, Perseus Jackson, saw her next to, I write this, and let the first of many tears roll down my cheek.


End file.
